Dregs
by Remedios1
Summary: No magic. College life leaves bitter imprints and the boys are not entirely accepting towards Hermione's newest boyfriend. Slash if you squint.


Disclaimer: I copied and pasted familiar names into the place of my own. That is all that has been used.

Dregs

The first time that she brought him along for our viewing pleasure things started with a pile of bone porcelain. The attendants at the Ritz had daintily picked at the shattered remains of the tea set while professionally maintaining a sneer that masqueraded as an understanding smile. It had been rather predictable for my ginger haired friend to react with such vigorous fury. To this day it is beyond me why my usually intelligent friend missed by a mile what was acceptable under normal circumstances.

Meeting the new boyfriend was never an activity that particularly inspired enthusiasm on our parts, but, this was an obvious intrusion on the flexibility and understanding that we usually displayed upon meeting the fellow. The four of us had managed to get through afternoon tea in one piece and without any further explosions; and the fact that the Ritz was minus one tea set was disregarded, and Hermione was pleased with the result. But, hell had not frozen over, and an aftermath was guaranteed as part of the package.

"Well?" Hermione had stated, rather than asked, when all of us, minus the new accessory, traipsed to her flat. The day was beautiful – crisp and chilly in a coat of autumn but had lacked the usual soundtrack of our jabbering, laughing, and joking. I fancied that Joey, the homeless man with "Starved All the Way" printed on his cardboard sign (a ripped-apart Budweiser box) could feel the tension. As it happens Joey had been born deaf and mute. The question was very impersonal and indifferent – and one could almost believe that she had conveniently dislodged the memory of her newest bed warmer being an insulting and offensive character that successfully dampened every day of an otherwise enjoyable college career.

"Funny you should say that love, I had expected to start the inquiry precisely in that manner. But, I had also anticipated asking you if you recently overdosed on acid – your behavior more than constitutes for a brain meltdown." Ron really had a way of saying things.

She looked affronted. That _was_ a very rude thing to say. But what in the bloody hell was she thinking? I received a pointed look.

"Well, you do know how I feel about surprises." I offered. I preferred to remain as neutral as Switzerland during one of their numerous World Wars.

She sighed. "I can not convince you that he's changed. I also can't explain what happened." In my opinion it was just a stupid infatuation ruled by looks and wealth. She downed her scotch.

He became the fourth member of our little group. At least Hermione would like to think so: Ron and I were cooperative as long as the bastard's physical presence did not grossly offend our moral sensibilities. He did seem different – spent a lot of time looking at Hermione, not really saying anything to us other than a greeting or sparse comment here and there. I loathed him all the more for that behavior – it was absurdly out of character to not be unpleasant. H infused her with that look of his – so unsure and puzzled. In turn, it made me uncomfortable and confused. That automatically succeeded in provoking Ron to become uneasy and perplexed and all of this would eventually register to Hermione. Hermione would look up, mystified, and bask in the pregnant silence.

The little get-togethers always took on a more enjoyable turn for me as soon as I started the ritual of envisioning him choking on his damned oyster as he delicately slurped it. He always ordered oysters, probably thought himself too good for the food that we mortals consume. Bastard.

"What do you think shellfish breath smells like?" Ron asked as he fixed the swaying couple with a glower.

"They have not come up with a proper term to define something so foul."

"Are we still talking about breath?"

Hermione and her charlatan had accidentally suctioned themselves on to each other's mouths. I shuddered, finding the sight rather fetid to watch. Grabbing my jacket I threw a couple of words over my shoulder. What on earth else would I be talking about?

It had been very unwise to get myself into such an idiotic and vulnerable position. I am quite reasonable and logical in all that do not involve an invitation that mentions Glen Livet Scotch. A pathetic love but, I find myself far too emotionally unstable to consider projecting those same feelings to anything other than an inanimate object. As an appraiser of humans and their nature it is far better to view your friends and interests as things you value as opposed to love. Love would have destroyed us all by now.

The ice kept on clinking in the tumbler that he swirled. It was irritating me and I connected the whole thing like a three year old does dots: hand warm, glass cold, warm melt cold, melting ice water, water + whiskey very watery, ruined whiskey. I was displeased.

Next time I will call it a night after dominating the others in billiards. Celebrating my triumph was enjoyable but then I became clumsy and lost everything: ability to walk, and ability to talk. It came down to "You're not good enough for her."

"I know." This calm response was not what I was waiting for.

"She is the best thing that has happened to you." I urged, hoping for retaliation.

"The next best thing." Hestretched his arms up, as if reaching for something out of grasp. Then, to complete the bizarre scenario, he started laughing pitifully, hysterically. In fairytales Prince Charming did not get drunk.

I coughed and with a raised eyebrow replied: "I stand corrected."

"Did you hear me?" This was a subject he wanted to explore further apparently.

"You are not good enough." I repeated and in my defense, at the time it _did _sound rather profound.

"I am painfully aware of _that. _But, do _you_ have a claim on her?" He fixed me with a sharp glare, his chest puffing out proudly – an animal instinct of a rather primitive, single-minded creature.

"Are you jealous?" I teased with a leer. Let him feel threatened.

"You have no idea."

Hermione broke up with hima couple of months after. She was rather vague about the whole thing – something about not being on the same page. I don't really know what she meant by that, but, Ron speculated that he was not really "there".

"So he did not support her?" I asked for clarification.

"No, he was just absent – even while he was there physically his mind was elsewhere. It would piss me off too."

I shrugged – guess that made sense.

I wondered if Ron read over Hermione's shoulder – to make sure that they were on the same page.

I opened the door to his face – his arrogant, selfish, little mug. Interrupting my schedule like that, after I had spent hours adjusting it to accommodate my afternoon nap, was unacceptable. I imagine I looked as friendly as a charging rhinoceros. He looked so meek, standing there, like a little boy who wants to borrow an egg to bake cookies with his mum. 'One minute, I'll be right back with the egg…'

I raised my eyebrow and leaned sideways onto the doorframe to give an air of confident ownership.

"It's always worth a try right? Seeking what you want?" He clearly practiced that expression in front of a mirror – that asshole. Damn, game over.

"Remember Draco, this is no fairytale." I stepped back inside to make tea – where all this mess began. I heard him close the door and shuffle after me.

I only use loose leaf tea. The dregs make things more difficult, sticking to the roof of one's mouth and constantly clog up the sink. Most do not bother with it. None will understand the superior taste and heavenly aroma – the beauty of all that bullshit.

END

Note: They are in their mid to late 20s here, so I improvised how responses and situations would have been handled. Childish outbursts, angry retorts, and simple language would have seemed unusual. So, seeing as how I would like to think that they would act like the adults that they are, I gave the personalities a makeover.


End file.
